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  #1   Add to Londonboy's Reputation   Report Post  
Old March 11th, 2012, 07:13 PM
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The Phoenix - Part 4

Part 4: Learning to Fly Again


“Okay, Mr. James, it has been exactly eight months since we began the ‘let’s build your body big’ project. It is time for you to report some stats. Let’s hear them.”

“Yes sir. Chest is 47 inches. Shoulders are fifty-five and a half inches wide. My arms are twenty inches. My waist is thirty inches and my thighs are a lovely twenty-nine all the way around. Calves are eighteen inches solid, but the most important part I’ve saved for last. My forearms are a whopping fifteen inches and hard as rocks. That, my English friend, is what eight grueling months can do for a man! Thank you, thank you, thank you Derek for all of your support. I still have a long way to go before reaching massiveness, but this is a great beginning.”

“It certainly is! Those stats are what most men dream of. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think you’d get those kinds of results this fast. Congratulations. You might not be massive, but you are certainly big, James. I am so proud of you and I know Chance would feel the same – if he were here.”

“Well I tend to become a little obsessed about things – that’s what Chance would always say. I also had the best coach ever. I’m sure the sexual tension was a big help, too. And speaking of that, I think it’s time we met in person, don’t you?”

The silence from the other side was deafening. I had been busy tying my shoes for our workout, but I quickly glanced up at the screen. Derek was looking straight at me and his face was full of compassion, but also something similar to fear. I moved closer to my camera and tilted my head to the side – something we both knew by this point meant I was encouraging him to speak. He didn’t say a word, however, and then just looked down at the top of his desk.

“Don’t you ever think about getting together, Derek?”

“All the time, but . . . I’m not sure . . . I mean . . . “

“But what, Derek?”

“I think you need to think about a few things, James, especially as you move toward the first anniversary of . . . well, you know . . .”

“Derek, I’m doing great. Look at me. I’m huge. I can easily handle that milestone now that I’ve grown so don’t worry about it. I’m doing great.”

“Are you, James?”

“What makes you ask that? Derek, it’s like you’re hiding something or you’re afraid to say what’s on your mind. We are so beyond having secrets. Come on, spit it out.”

“I think meeting right now would be a mistake, James. I . . . I don’t think . . . you are over Chance yet.”

“That’s not fair, Derek. What would make you think that way?”

“Don’t get mad, James. I’m not trying to hurt you and I really don’t think you have to be over someone that you loved so much this soon – if you actually ever get over something like that, but I just want to point out that we’ve never had a conversation where he wasn’t a major part of it.”

“Well that’s just because he’s such a big part of our lives.”

“You see what you just said James – Chance is such a big part of our lives, not was a big part. And that’s fine. I just think you need more time and if we met I’d be really disappointed if we couldn’t get together – I mean really together. I have strong feelings for you.”

“And I have strong feelings for you, Derek. That’s why we should meet face to face – in the same room.”

“Let’s just get beyond the first anniversary of his death, okay James. Can we wait until after that? I believe it’s really going to be hard on you.”

“What is up with you, Derek, are you now some kind of psychiatrist or something?”

“As a matter of fact I am, James, but you’ve never cared to ask.”

His comment hit me like a ton of bricks. I, in fact, had never taken the time in eight months to ask Derek what he did for a living. I flashed back over the time we had known each other and I suddenly recognized all the skilled guidance he had given me during this hard time in my life. It all made sense now – why I felt so comfortable with him - but that didn’t make me any less angry about what he was saying. I couldn’t see what he recognized so easily, that I wanted to push for a meeting between us quickly so I could avoid having to think about my husband, as we drew closer to the day of his death one year later. I wanted to use Derek to avoid more pain – to escape – but I was unable to see any of that at the moment. I simply became more irrational and angry.

“If you really cared for me you’d want to meet, Derek.”

“That’s not fair, James, and you know it’s not true.”

“How do I know that Derek?”

“Have I ever done anything that made you think I didn’t care for you?”

“No, but this is turning out to be the first time. I’m really angry with you. I think we better not work out this evening. I’ve got to go.”

“Please don’t do this James, I’m just trying . . . “

I walked over and pushed the off button before Derek could finish. I then quickly shut down the computer. I didn’t want to see any instant messages or emails from the guy. I wanted to be free of him completely. I even turned off my phone, worried that he would try to call. I immediately went over to the weight bench and spent the next two hours working out like a fiend. I let my anger fuel my lifting. I was feeling really pumped, but still quite angry at the end of what would have been our regular Friday routine. When I was done I slid off the bench and sat on the floor. I was breathing hard and Derek’s words were still swirling around in my head. He had it all wrong. I had certainly dealt with Chance’s death fully by this point. I looked at myself in the mirror across the room and nodded, my new body being obvious proof of how much I had advanced in this area. I then started looking around our living room. I corrected that thought and made it my living room. The first thing I noticed was how everything was the same as it had always been – nothing was different. Some of that was good, but other parts suddenly jumped out at me as pathetic and sad. Chance’s sunglass case was still on the counter by the phone, empty since he had been wearing them during the accident. His jacket still hung on the rack by the door to the back yard. It dawned on me in a flash that I had not put one thing of his away in all of these eight months. Our home was still as if I was waiting for him to return from work at any moment. I also knew the refrigerator was full of leftovers because every night I still cooked for two. Without any warning I suddenly broke down and started blubbering like a baby. It lasted for forty-five minutes, with me just sitting on the floor realizing I had moved forward physically by building up my muscles, but I had stayed stagnant emotionally.

This new awareness didn’t make my anger directed at Derek go away. I was too stubborn. It was pretty clear later on that I was just using him at that moment as a place to focus all of my pain over the upcoming anniversary of Chance’s death and my inability to move forward emotionally, but right then I simply stayed mad. I went to bed without showering. I was totally worn out by both my workout and my sudden cry fest. That night I didn’t dream about Chance, I dreamt about Derek. It wasn’t a pleasant dream but I did wake up in the morning with the hardest morning wood I’d experienced in a long time. I let my hands run all over my tight bulging muscles and I allowed my mind to drift back to Chance’s story called ‘Mr. Huge.” I imagined my husband sitting in one of the wingback chairs near the big window of our bedroom watching as Derek and I kissed and fondled each other in bed. I could clearly see the ever so familiar slightly evil grin of Chance Stevenson as he stroked his cock watching our two big bodies being completely explored by each other. My mind’s gaze slowly left Chance in the chair and turned to look at the muscles of Derek’s huge body. I found myself groping and fondling every part of him, feeling the hardness and teetering ever so closer to release. I imagined my first deep kiss with Derek and even though it made my toes curl I forced my mind to move back to the chair in the corner, but no matter how hard I tried I could no longer find Chance. As soon as I allowed my focus to go back to the intense kiss, my cock released volleys of warm cum all over my stomach and chest. The reality of my orgasm made me quickly forget the strangeness of the fantasy that had brought such satisfying relief. My anger with Derek returned and I ignored my inability to picture Chance in my daydream.

A few hours later I turned on my computer and was completely shocked to find there were no messages from Derek – nothing, not even a peep from him. I turned on my phone expecting to have a few voicemails from the guy and was again surprised by an empty box. I began to rationalize everything and, of course, put the blame on him. Derek was obviously being passive-aggressive and I should do the same. I refused to let him win. He was the one not being fair and foolishly assumed he knew what was best for me. I disagreed so powerfully that I felt it was fine if we never spoke again. That thought immediately made my stomach twist up in knots, but I ignored the obvious warning. I grabbed my gym bag and left for my normal Saturday morning workout.

My childish decision to never speak to Derek again and my desire to prove I had completely dealt with Chance’s death made me become more sexually aggressive at the gym that day. I chose the tightest t-shirt in my bag and the flimsiest cotton shorts. I planned on doing some intense flirting and I wanted my hard-on to be more than obvious when it tented up. With my newly improved body and my hustler-themed outfit it didn’t take long for me to find a man I deemed as big as Derek, which had been my goal. I had learned by this point to recognize a steroid abuser, but that made the guy that much more inviting. I noticed him watching me closely as I bent over slowly – on purpose – during my warm-up exercises. It was obviously arms day for him and my heart skipped a few beats as I watched him do dumbbell curls with some monstrous weights. I ignored his poor form and simply let my gaze focus on the swelling mass each time he lifted upward. His guns were bigger than Derek’s and that somehow fueled my juvenile actions on even more. I met the big guy’s stare at one point and parted my lips, allowing my tongue to slide teasingly across the upper one. It was evident that the guy was as horny as I was because he actually found my little display tantalizing. He left his huge weights on the floor, another big no-no, and walked over to me. As he drew nearer I noticed he was even bigger than I thought and he was wearing shorts that looked to be about two sizes too small. My excitement doubled when I noticed the head of his dick was visible on one side as he walked; the guy obviously saw no need for underwear. If I hadn’t been so desperate to prove something to nobody in particular I would have noticed the size of the tool did not match the rest of him – I would have seen that the tiny shorts were the only way for him to show he had a bulge at all. It was amazing how big biceps on a guy automatically made me think everything else simply matched. I was sitting on a mat on the floor stretching when he finally stood above me with an outstretched hand.

“They call me Ox.”

“With neck and shoulders like that I can see why. Let me get my yoke.”

“What?”

“Um, never mind, a stupid joke. I’m James.”

Even the apparent lack of a creative bone in his body did not deter me. I grabbed his hand; slightly surprised by how small it was, and watched his big biceps bounce as we shook. The guy had a face only a mother could love, but his size made a worshipper like me think he was much more handsome. He didn’t smile at me or even try to be flirtatious. I had a feeling he was just used to getting what he wanted or was that thought created in my head simply because of his size. It was immediately clear that he did not feel it was his responsibility to carry on the conversation, that was my task it seemed.

“You’ve got some very impressive guns there, Ox.”

“Yeah.”

He just stood there and stared at me. I know it sounds like I’m stereotyping the guy, but he probably was as dumb as his name inferred. I was beginning to have doubts about where this little interlude was headed but then Ox reached up to scratch his left pec and the bulging mass on his arm made me redouble my efforts.

“So, I’m into muscle worship and pleasing big men. What about you, Ox?”

“I’m into getting fucked hard in my ass.”

It took everything in me not to burst out with a loud guffaw. I kept a straight face and simply nodded my head up and down. My fantasies of this huge man were being shattered. For some bizarre reason I immediately began to think about Derek – what was he doing at that moment, had he thought about calling me, and how could someone so big and beautiful also be so smart and caring. It was pretty obvious that my brain was telling me not to whore around with a submissive Neanderthal when there were actually big men out there in the world who could carry on a conversation and even some that got my jokes. All of the sexual energy that had been bubbling in my body all morning seemed to disappear instantly. I created a sure-proof plan to get out of my uncomfortable predicament. I forced myself not to look at Ox’s arms, my true Achilles’ heel, and kept my eyes on his.

“Yeah, I hear that man and I really like the same thing. I love huge men with giant schlongs that will fuck me like crazy. A cock can’t be too big for me. I like to be plowed by a fat, long piece of hard juicy meat. How about we go back to my place and I ride you all day long?”

I watched his face fill with doubt and his small cock actually shriveled up even more. I knew the animal wouldn’t be able to face the obvious disappointment I would feel when we got naked. I felt like I was being a little cruel, but I also suddenly realized that a quick roll in bed with someone was not going to fix my problems. Ox had helped me to see more clearly that my need for revenge or making someone jealous was stupid. This was especially true since my actions would have not affected Derek in the way I wanted and they could not bring Chance back. I suddenly regretted egging the big man in front of me on like I had.

“Uh, maybe some other day, dude. I got to get back to my workout. It’s arms day and all, you know? I’ll hunt you down one day when we’re both here. Have a great one, okay? Later.”

And with that the big man turned and walked away. I instantly felt relieved and was able to notice all the things that would have made sex with Ox completely wrong, even things beyond his unneeded embarrassment at his own package. First, he had no ass and he clearly never worked his legs. The symmetry that Derek always insisted should be my goal, and what he actually achieved with his own body, was apparently not a priority to the man quickly shuffling away. Thoughts of my big friend in England consumed me. For the first time in eight months I got up, retrieved my belongings, and left the gym without working out. I suddenly felt very lonely and just wanted to be home.
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  #2   Add to maximum360's Reputation   Report Post  
Old March 11th, 2012, 08:55 PM
Skinny as a Rail
 
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Very nice, and well written! "the real story is in the telling, " and you tell yours quite well! The emotions, the conflicts... They are all so real! It draws the reader into the story so well!

Keep it up!
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  #3   Add to Mad Dog's Reputation   Report Post  
Old March 11th, 2012, 10:28 PM
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Aw, what's wrong with big guys liking their asses fucked?
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